Noodles And Other Foods I Love To Blog About


0

I woke up in the early hours with a sword through my chest.  Swear to The Almighty He Who Is Or Isn’t that while it may have not been visible, it was there.  It started from the front, over the center of my chest, plunged through, and out through my spine.  Oddly, I think my spine hurt the most.  But nothing felt awesome.  I was nauseous.  I was dizzy.  I had indigestion like I’d eaten the whole damn chicken, feathers beak and all, and not just some of its breast hours earlier.

This wasn’t the first time.  Each time I half asleep panic that I’m having a heart attack.  Each time I tell myself I’m not even 30, I drink some pink stuff, and I curse my body for about an hour when *poof* it is magically gone, as quickly as it came.  Fine.  Fine.  Sleep.  Sleep.  2AM DYING.  DYING. DYING.  3AM fine.  Sleep.  Sleep.

My body only does this in the dead of night when I’m in a sound sleep that the roof caving in couldn’t wake me from.

Clearly not a heart attack.  I’d be dead by now.

This last time I got curious and Googled the symptoms for a heart attack.  Oh.

Age ranges?  Well, do you have a heart?

Twitter, does it realistically happen to those under 30?  Oh, you know someone personally who died from one when they were 14?  Awesome.

Then oh hey, about 12 hours later, ok more like 10, but I’m starting to sound dumb here, my left shoulder started in.  Now I have chronic pain, don’t take the damn arm seriously.  Ever.  No, it doesn’t matter that it’s my right shoulder and not my left shoulder that acts up.  Chronic pain.  All joints prone.  Major weather changes at that.  OHIO!  OHIO WEATHER!  (I’m seriously not a fan of calling weather “bipolar”, btw but if I was…)

So I kept everything in mind, because I’m not dumb, but I weighed in my age and other risk factors (recently declared perfect blood pressure and cholesterol levels, but kind of sort of fat) and decided I’d give it some time.

Then with great stupidity, I ordered dinner.  The following is pretty much directly off twitter since it is quite hilarious, as long as you don’t know about the earlier heart attack symptoms.

See, when a Chinese restaurant takes the time to warn you that something is spicy, they don’t mean Wendy’s spicy chicken, spicy.  In fact, I’m fairly certain that the dish in question was more Vietnamese and less Chinese.  And the ability it gave me to breath fire, my husband informed me, was thanks to the liberal use of ghost pepper seeds.  And I can now from experience tell you that ghost pepper is named for its ability to turn diners into restless souls searching for cold water.  Water doesn’t help, just to clarify.

Also, damn that stuff was good.

And?  Not a peep from my stomach, or heart since.  See, the way I figured, it was indigestion and eating something spicy would give my stomach to chew on, or I was indeed having a heart attack and this would fix my indecision.  Either way, I’d know.

And I do know.

I know that when the Chinese restaurant takes the time to tell you something is spicy, they are referring to something more than your local fast food joint’s seasoned sandwich.

0

Having mastered the best muffins ever, and succeeding in a cake, I got creative.

Image courtesy of Real Mom Kitchen, who also provided the idea.

I took her from scratch version and did my “I can’t really bake yet” twist.  As in I used Bisquick and followed their recipe for pancakes.  Then I followed her instructions for how full to fill the muffin tin and how long to bake at what temp. (1/2, 15 min, 400F).

They are in the oven as we speak!  So nope.  No clue how they turned out.

But once out, if not a chaotic mess, I’m going to fill the crater with pure fruit jam, and then add a thin layer of powdered sugar over top.

And since my test audience is a 4yo and a 9mo, I’m guessing popular opinion will be that they turned out just fine!

And should we all three agree they turned out fantastic, I’ll increase the size and age bracket of my test audience.

Or I’ll go back and figure out what I did wrong.

You know, one of the two.

Meanwhile, you should join me on pintrest and help me brainstorm ideas of how to indulge my sweet tooth and sabotage my waistline.  We just need to make sure it’s worth it!  (Hint: It always is.)

 

Edit 30 minutes later: So.  Don’t use the Bisquick.  I’m assuming the posted recipe would have turned out right.  But my easier version was a pancake ball, not a pancake crater that could hold goodness.  Don’t get me wrong, we still ate them.  I mean, my test audience didn’t care what they looked like and we still smothered them in fruit and powdered sugar.  (Ok not Samtron’s.)  And so they did taste good.  They just looked not so very pretty.  And when the above picture is what you are aiming for…

Also.  Note to self:  Always assume I need to use cooking spray.  My muffin tin is about as non-stick as super glue.

1

I’m attempting baking.  Which, I’ve spent almost 30 years getting burned every dam time I’ve gone near the oven.  So this whole baking thing is a development that scares people.  But, I’ve invested in aloe and some mixes and I’m going in.

I spent the first half of my marriage living with my mom and husband.  My husband can cook, my mom can bake, I never went hungry. 

The second half of my marriage was spent living with my dad.  My husband can cook, my dad can bake, I never went hungry.

But, with the up and coming changes in living situation, one of us had to master baking.  Granted, my husband is by no means bad at it, it just isn’t his area.

It took me a while to figure out how exactly that works.  Then it dawned on me: Bakers measure every damn thing.  Cooks laugh at your measuring cups.

I can measure.  I mean, it’s math.  I can do math!  Dammit, I’m going to learn how to bake!

I’ve made 2 cakes, which have turned out interesting.  Um.  Despite a perfectly level oven and baking rack.  Despite perfect placement in the center of the oven.  It never fails that the half of the cake, length wise, closest to the oven door is baked up to the top of the pan, and the other half is about a quarter of an inch high and not so very fluffy.  It’s more crispy.

It boggles minds.  Cakes have been baked in there before and between.  So, it’s me.

The sugar cookies last night were decent.  And I have bought what will be needed to make them perfect.

Tonight’s blueberry cheesecake muffins are still in there.  Someone is listening for my timer, yes?  (Scratch that.  They just came out.  They need to cool while I edit this, but they look and smell divine.)

So far I’m sticking to mixes.  I need to master the basics before I get too creative.  The best way I can admit my inept is that about 3 weeks ago, my husband taught me how to grease a cake pan with butter then coating it with flour.  (I’m sorry mom.  I knew you weren’t done with me before he stole me away.  Thank jeebus he can cook at least, yes?  I’d starve otherwise.)

So.  I’m mastering mixes.  Then maybe later in the year, I’ll get creative with thinking outside the box.  Any fun ideas?  Ignore the whole “diet”.  I’m balancing this crap with lots and lots of fresh veggies.  So we’re good.  Promise.

Alright.  Off to devour some muffins!

2

I’ve had snippets of thought run through my head on what I could possibly say to really get across what I’m thinking and feeling.  But nothing seems to come close.

I’ve been married for 9 years.  That’s almost 1/3 of my entire life.  Really, mostly all of my adult life.

9 years.

There are people who can’t even make it a year.  Or a month.  Or a week.

Pat and I, as messed up as we are individually and even at times, many times, together, have outlast couples far more stable than us.  Perhaps the glue that holds us together is the understanding that no one else would put up with the shit we put up with?

Or maybe it’s the mutual understanding that no one, NO ONE, can get me like my husband does, and I’d like to think I do a pretty damn good job of getting him too.

9 years.

9 years and he still loves me.  It isn’t just what he says.  It’s what he does.

Like doing his damnedest to make my poor, decrepit desk chair usable.  I didn’t ask.  He just figured out a way to “fix” it and did it.

The way he encourages me to start watching Dr Who knowing full well he’ll lose his wife to the telly for a month (at least) but also knows I’ll love it and it’s worth it.  Plus, it’s something we can share.  After he loses me to the telly for a month (at least) while I catch up.

Plunging the toilet almost every time I use it even if nothing more than just pee is being flushed.  I’m fairly sure our toilet downstairs hates me, but thank god my husband loves me.  And can use a plunger.  It’s basically a requirement for being married to me, really.

The fact I’ve carried and birthed 3 babies now and things, uh, don’t exactly work the proper fashion anymore.  But he’s patient, understanding, and willing to accept the fact he’s partially to blame anyway because he is the one who knocked me up, after all.

He’s seen me through 2 mental health hospitalizations and was able to keep me laughing the one time with the Ativan that made me out-of-it.  You had to have been there.  You weren’t.  It was just me and Pat.  And the lesbian nurse who had the hots for me that Pat swears up and down wasn’t a figment of his imagination, leaving me to question just which one of us was on the Ativan.

Hell, Pat literally saved my life that one time I was carrying furniture up a flight of stairs, hit the wall at the top, got pushed back down the stairs with the furniture riding me the whole way down.  Only a few more steps and my neck would have snapped like a twig, but he caught me.

He humours my love of my final course at Mongolian BBQ being a plate of nothing but pineapple and Teriyaki sauce.  Then started to make it for me at home because it’s so much cheaper than going to BD’s for just pineapple and Teriyaki sauce.  (I always have a couple of plates of real food to get my money’s worth, but I’m not going to lie about my real reason for wanting to go.)

He laughs at my biggest fear (of being locked int he vault at work overnight) because really if he doesn’t laugh, that’s because he thinks it’s plausible and the only way I’ll be able to enter said vault is if I don’t think my fear is rational.  Even though it totally is.  Clearly.

9 years of putting up with my shit.  Literally.  And I will never stop being thankful.

9 years.

No really!  I’ve been married for 9 years!

Not that long ago I was asked on twitter how my husband copes with my destructive behavior.  My husband pointed out that he’d let me/them know when he figured out how.

And yet?  9 years.

1

Last week? Sucked! So it is way past time to discuss the moments in my life that were epic this past little bit.

1. I got to work out some anger towards a PR bitch who wanted me to blatantly lie to you guys.  For 10 dollars. Not that 10,000 would have made the difference. The 10 dollar part was simply insult to injury. Where I am willing to be sponsored or link ads to the right places, I won’t lie about it. Period. And I’ll only support what I am willing to stand behind.  I did take great joy in sending her a link to the dictionary definition of “authentic”, though.

2. One of the local Kmarts isn’t able to renew their lease due to the rent being randomly doubled.  Which sucks but they are in “please buy everything we have as fast as possible” mode and my mom took me to cash in on some good deals.  I was smart enough to stick to a list of things we’ve actually been needing for a long while.  Cuts down on the “you spent what on me?” remorse.  Plus, some will be paid back when I get my bonus in May.  So, there is that.  She/we bought:

  • Shoe rack for the bazillion pairs of shoes we have lying about.  5 people does not simply equal 5 pairs of shoes.  Nope.  We’d been using a laundry basket to dump them in.  See below.
  • Laundry baskets.  10 of them for 15$.  Yes, they are cheap and small, but still better than what I’m replacing.
  • Laundry hamper that I heart so bad! Old one? Also falling apart.
  • Shoes for me.  White dress sandals because I had a serious gap in that department.  Black flats to replace ones that are falling a apart.  And a pair of flip flops that are comfy as fuck and were like 6$.
  • Summer clothes for Sammy.  We are keeping it simply because I’m thinking it’ll be hot as Hades this year, so we stocked on onesies and some cute little sundresses
  • Trash cans.  Buying trash cans isn’t glamorous unless you have been in serious need for a couple new ones for a long ass time but can never seem to get around to it.  20% off already inexpensive?  Yeah, we can get to that!

3. Wendy’s has this new sandwich that involves spicy chicken, bacon and guacamole.  OMG I have never had a fast food sandwich that tasted even half that good.

4. I took the time to really sit and study Sammy as she rolls from back to belly.  That shit is funny, yo.  But oh the adorables!  Also?  While I wouldn’t call her mobile, she is far from stationary.  Only, she can only really go in reverse.  And girl missed the line to have review mirrors installed.

5. I was able to prove maybe I’m more ahead of the ADHD game with my 4yo than I thought.  Fidget beads are a huge success!

6. I am taking the Chibi Challenge!  If you would like to aid in my mental health ego, you are welcome to comment with 3 words that describe me.  Think positive! The results are going to be built into a word cloud, not unlike what I posted all day Sunday.  They are fun to make though.  You can make them on Wordle.

7. I am in talks with Becky and while I’m not currently a Brain Behind The Band, my return is in the future once I get the rest of my life squared away.  I just need to focus on other things so that I have the energy free to give the band all the energy that I choose to give.

9. I am to the point where while a Mt Dew would sound awesome, I would no longer kill for it.  Just maybe maim.

10. My husband is seeing and commenting on noticeable signs of improvement in my mood over this time last week.  So maybe I am right that yes I can be off my meds, this past week just really did suck.  I got a lot of feedback from others as well that dude, the week sucked.  BUT if I can survive that week med free, I can survive anything med free.

So those are my glitter spots that I’m hanging onto.  Do you have any you care to share?

0

Today I threw a Pi Day Pie Party.  Me.  Miss anti-social.  Who struggles to throw a damn family birthday party for my kids.  I threw a party not because I had to but because I wanted to.
I’m not going to lie, that was the best damn party I’ve ever been to and I get the badge of honor of having thrown it!

First off, it helps that people like pie.  No really.  It seems you people really like your pie.

We (because Brenda brought it) served Shepard’s Pie for dinner (to add a level of responsible) and then had 2 different tables full of 10 different dessert pies.  It was almost overwhelming.  I mean, where to begin?

I invited all those in my life who would see the humour of having a Pie Party on Pi Day.  Even if I had to get them past the initial concept of what Pi Day was, the humour was not lost.  I had pieces of my whole life gathered at my place.  My best friend Stacy from high school.  My long time friend Jen and her boyfriend Phil.  I had former co-workers from the camera store, Brenda and her husband Scott, Kate and her boyfriend Bobby, and Jim.  I had current co-workers from the bank Steve and Michael.  And of course my mom and kids.

Pat?  Pat has game nights on Wednesday.  He refused to make this an exception.  But, by him not being there I was able to make this a major gathering instead of just the few he was comfortable with.  I mean, he has major social anxiety.  Everyone invited was wonderful, but he still would have been in social hell under his own roof.  I missed him but this party was a blast!

Moving on to future plans:

#56 on my life list (that will be in the next batch I post up here) clearly reads: Pick 3 more “holidays” to throw parties for – 1 for each season.  I figure 1 every 3ish months.  3/14 is Pi Day.  Star Wars day on May the 4th.  And September’s?  It’s obvious: International Talk like a Pirate Day – Sept 19.  Apparently, my life has come to this and I rather like it!  Now I just have to pick one that falls between November and January. Ideally December but I can’t find any really geeky holidays that month. December 16th is Chocolate Covered Anything Day, though, so that has potential.

Rejected holidays for my parties are:

  • Stupid Guy Thing Day – June 22
  • Please Take My Children to Work Day – June 26
  • Seems September 5th is “Be late for something day”.  I’d host a party with that theme, but who the fuck knows when people would show up.
  • Nose Hair Maintenance Day – Sept 8
  • Take It in the Ear Day – December 8
  • Monkey Day – Dec 14 is the day we all gather to steal a monkey from the Cols zoo
  • Nose Hair Maintenance Day – Sept 8

I can’t make this shit up!  Which, I really don’t have to since someone else did.

0

Linking up with the band this week.  I don’t usually, but this Monday was magic.  Actually, I generally rather like Mondays.  After what equates to 48 hours with my family, I enjoy escaping back to the adult world.  Not going to lie.  I love my family but I also value my brain.

So, tonight for dinner, the boys and I made this.

Granted, they were the only ones to eat it because ew gross, but we made it together.  It was actually a rather fun art project.  We made all sorts of designs that they then got to eat after it cooked.

Then while dinner was on the stove, I brought out the ice-your-own cookie kit I bought at the store on my lunch break.  I saw it and could stop myself.  It was a couple dozen basic cookies in spring shapes, along with 3 different colors of icing in bags ready to be snipped in the corner and squeezed.

The 3 of us had a blast designing cookies.

Then they ate dinner and then we devoured a few cookies.

All in all, dinner was full of craft and yum.

Well, the dessert was yum, though they would argue dinner was yum to.  I pretty much refuse to eat hot dogs, but apparently I’m willing to stick cold, slimy hot dog pieces to spaghetti sticks.  Go figure.  But that is love only a mother can demonstrate, let me tell you.

Next Page »